"Mothers are strange creatures. It's true.
Even when their kids are grown and grey or bald or both
they worry about their underwear.
And socks. And summer colds.
They worry when the roads are icy.
Or when there's an epidemic.
They worry about childish weaknesses long outgrown.
They are stunned to find their children so precocious.
They feel the same astonishment when
their sons are appointed Chairman of the Board
as when they won the sack race.
They are flabbergasted and delighted
when their little daughters become headteachers.
They need to keep in touch.
They phone at inconvenient moments.
They smile bright crocodile smiles at friends
of whom they don't approve.
They refuse to grow old peacefully.